


Dragon Beneath the River

by enemytosleep



Series: Wrong Turn 'verse [25]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen, Growing Up, Introspection, Jedi Training, Martial Arts, Tea, Travel, Xing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-09-01 05:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16758655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enemytosleep/pseuds/enemytosleep
Summary: It seemed fitting somehow that he was back on a train, speeding down the rails toward alchemical discovery.One year after the Promised Day, Alphonse heads East across the desert to Xing to study rentanjutsu with the great masters of Yulong temple. The road ahead is long, but this journey started long, long ago.





	1. Book One: Wood

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, I have borrowed liberally from both Arakawa-sensei and my buddy, [bob_fish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bob_fish/pseuds/bob_fish), who should be credited with the temple’s name and other details I’ve used from her [Wrong Turn](https://archiveofourown.org/series/6053) series. A big thank you to her for beta duties as she handles young children, work, and all the fun adult things. Please go check out her stuff for more of her incredible world building.

“ _Bpai!_ ” The monk waved his hands at Alphonse, shooing him from the temple courtyard, repeating the word that sounded so much like _bye_ Al wondered briefly once more if he was simply hearing Amestrian words purely from desperation - but he’d taken the hint and set off at a run, significantly behind the troop of children who’d set out running down the mountain already.

The morning air was wet and cold, much colder than he’d experienced so far in Xing. The sun was still slumbering, and so the road was dark as the jungle canopy lazed above him, a small strip of night sky visible between the thick fronds. Al’s longs legs carried him forward easily, and he was now coming level with the children of Yulong temple as they jogged down the mountain, their many feet scraping dirt and small breaths huffing in tune. He wasn’t sure what time it was right now, but he’d wager it was something like 5am, a solid hour before sunrise. 

Al had arrived at the temple last night, rather late, after spending two full days in the back of a horse cart with the two imperial guards Ling had sent to accompany him to the Chang province. They’d missed dinner, and so he had gone to bed looking forward to breakfast in the morning. Instead of breakfast, however, he’d been awakened in the dark and made to dress. Al was thankful that he had adopted the Xingese clothing Ling provided, as it was certainly more suitable to running than the khaki slacks and dress shirt he normally would have worn. The leather slippers were soft and molded to his feet, and while he could feel the differences in the texture of the road through them - sandy toward the center, like damp cement toward the outer edges where it sloped down toward the jungle floor - his feet did not hurt at all. 

Al wanted to ask if the children if they always ran in the dark, if running was part of their training, but he wasn’t sure he’d be understood. He was keenly reminded of his and Ed’s training with Teacher, though, so it was probably safe to assume that yes, running was part of their training here.

The children barely took notice of Al as they jogged down the mountain road in near silence. The mountains here were rather small compared to the Amestrian mountains bordering Drachma. Those behemoths were nearly always capped in snow, with jagged rocks and an uncompromising will. These mountains were more like large, rolling hills, absolutely green and lush and full of life. While the forest was still sleeping now, he could almost feel the life within it breathing slow, easy breaths. Yesterday evening it had been alive with buzzing insects, slithering snakes, and an untold number of other creatures moving between the thick trees and vines. 

Behind him, Al heard a quiet whirring which grew steadily louder. The sandy dirt crunched and as he turned to look over his shoulder, he heard the metallic clank of a bicycle basket bounce against its frame. The monk that sent them off was speeding downhill behind them, burgundy robes billowing darkly in the moonlight, and as he came up on Alphonse, he pulled a bamboo stick from the basket and smacked Al’s rear. “ _Bpai! Bpai na!_ ”

Al turned forward and saw the children had all sped up at the arrival of the bike, and he was now lagging behind. Again. Laughing, he picked up the pace and followed them down the path at a full run. 

The monk rode at the rear of the pack, and soon they reached the bottom of the mountain and Yulong temple’s modest gate. The children all took a right turn at the gate and headed down the road while Al followed, being sure to keep ahead of the monk and his stick. A few minutes later they all turned left down a small gravel path, barely noticeable in the jungle undergrowth that bordered the road on each side. Al followed, and the monk sped past, continuing down the main road they’d just left. The greenery was thick here, with sharp grass reaching out from each side, cutting into the exposed parts of Al’s arms and ankles. Soon, though, things opened up and they were in the middle of endless fields. The road was straight, made of pressed dirt and gravel that rose above the rice paddies on each side in steep slopes. In the distance, rolling mountains circled the farm fields and the small village Al had passed through yesterday on his way to the temple. 

The children slowed their pace and began sneaking glances at Alphonse unabashedly, laughing with each other and speaking words Al did not understand. One boy stooped to grab a small stone from the road and tossed it lazily at a boy toward the front of the pack. It hit him square in the back, and that boy stopped, turned back, and shouted something Al felt sure was obscene. The whole group laughed, and kept jogging - and Al followed, curious as ever.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at a crossroad, and the children turned left as one. There was still nothing but rice fields and the long stretches of empty road, too narrow for an automobile, not that Al thought any could be found up here. Soon they came up to a group of farmers, calf-deep in the water with large woven baskets at their hips, working diligently in the gray dawn. They smiled at the children and waved, then gave Alphonse a few curious looks. He decided to try out some of his new language skills. “ _Sabai dee kap._ ”

Two of the women giggled and waved to Al as he jogged past, singing a morning greeting to Al that sounded mostly similar to the one he’d just tried. He waved as he passed them, then noticed the children had left him slightly behind once more. It didn’t take him long to catch up, and soon they reached another crossroad with a small bridge passing over a modest stream. It was then that Alphonse noticed how very wet he was, his tunic drenched in sweat, and that he would so love to take a brief dip in the water. The children all veered left again, crossing the bridge. Al waved at a fisherman as he set out traps, presumably for something that crawled on the bottom of the water. 

The children’s pace slowed again, and they were giggling and speaking more animatedly than before. The sun was peeking over the mountains, fire red and bright. While they had been running for several kilometers, Al could tell it wasn’t only the exercise that caused him to sweat. The sun, hardly awake, was already baking the atmosphere. 

Twenty minutes more and they reached the main road, wide and open on the side of the rice fields, the other side densely guarded by jungle. They turned left again. Al guessed they might be heading back to the mountain road that led to the temple. Once on the main road they picked up their pace to a full run, and not a few minutes later Al knew why. The monk whirred toward them on his bicycle, meeting them face on, passing them, then stopping to turn and follow the rear of the pack once again. Even though Alphonse was running with the pack, the monk made sure to whap his rear with the stick. Al grinned.

Soon the jungle began to close in on both sides of the road, and the temple gate peeked at them up ahead. They turned right at the gate and began their climb, the jungle closing around them and guarding them from the intensifying sun. Al’s thighs burned, his calves swelled. The children kept a steady pace as they ran up the mountain, seemingly unfazed by the incline. He pushed onward happily.

*******

It seemed fitting somehow that he was back on a train, speeding down the rails toward alchemical discovery. It was a little like old times, except now Alphonse could feel the vibrations of the train from his seat and the warmth of the sun on his face through the glass window — and his brother wasn’t here to complain about the trip or the foreign food. Al relaxed in his seat, half-watching the Xingese countryside that stretched out beyond the rails. Today was the third and final day of their train voyage, having set out from the Imperial Palace of Xing a few days before.

“How did you sleep, Alphonse?”

Al looked from the window and gave Ya Yun an honest grin. “I slept well, and you?”

“ _Khun dai phuut passa Xing na kap_ ,” said Da, and Al was pretty sure he’d understood the reprimand even without context. 

“ _Phom … nong dee?_ ”

“ _Phom naawn dee kap,_ ” Da corrected. 

_Ah, right_. Al considered himself a good student, but language did not come as easily to him as other subjects, and he still very much struggled communicating in Xingese. At the imperial palace, this had not really been much of an issue as Ling and most of the staff he encountered spoke a fair amount of Amestrian, but Ran Fan had warned him that once in the outer province, it was highly unlikely that anyone would know Al’s native tongue. 

“Khun hiu rue mai kap?” Da asked - he certainly seemed to be pressing Al’s language usage this morning.

Hiu … hiu - that was the word for hungry, right? Al placed his palms together as if to complete an alchemic circle, then placed his thumbs on his chin, fingertips to his nose, and gave a very short bow of his head. “Chai kap,” he replied, which her knew to mean _yes_.

The royal guard opened his travel pack and pulled out several packages of sticky rice they had purchased at one of the last stops, handing them out to the small group in their private cabin. When Al had arrived in Xing several weeks ago, he and his previous escorts had traveled mostly by horse from the Western border to the Imperial City, and so he had been quite surprised to learn that one of Ling’s first tasks had been to strengthen Xing’s infrastructure by way of railways. In a show of good faith and camaraderie, the first line had run east from the Capitol, through Qiongya province, and then all the way north to the Chang capitol. It seemed Ling had done well to honor his agreement with Mei Chan after all.

“Da, are you happy to return to your province?” 

Da looked at Al for a moment, possibly considering Al’s use of Amestrian when they had spent the last three days aggressively working on his Xingese, but then he seemed more wistful and said, “I have only been away for less than one year, but yes, it will be nice to eat good food.” 

They laughed quietly and dug into their small meal, each of them soon lost in their own thoughts.

Ran Fan had chosen Da to accompany Al on this trip as Da was one of a few select Chang royal guards who had come to work for the emperor as part of Ling’s strategy to empower the province. They were also accompanied by Da’s right hand man, a woman from the Yao clan named Ya Yun. She stood as tall as Da and taller than any other Xingese woman Al had met so far, but both of them only came to Al’s shoulder. Al knew that the train journey was to take three days and two nights to complete. The railway stopped in the Chang capital of Mak Lai where they would spend a night at the palace before heading out for Yulong temple the next morning. Al couldn’t help but feel some nervous excitement at the chance to see the seventeenth princess of Xing again. He could hear Ed’s snickering all the way from Amestris now.

*******

Al sat on the ground, legs crossed, facing his tiny partner — and he could not help but think strongly of Mei. This girl shared the same round face, the same dark eyes, full of fire; she had the same black hair all Xingese seemed to share, cut sharply across her eyebrows in a thick fringe with the rest cut to her chin. This girl, Nung-ning if Al had heard her name correctly, was maybe seven years old and just as tiny as he remembered Mei when they’d first met before the Promised Day. However, Nung-ning, like many of the people Al had met so far in the Chang region, was far darker-complexed than the people of the Imperial City, darker than Mei, who was of royal blood. The people of Chang province were largely brown-skinned like their neighbors to the West in Ishbal, which suited Al just fine as his sun-kissed olive complexion blended in slightly more with this crowd, golden hair notwithstanding.

Nung-ning was watching Al with a cool expression, occasionally flicking her eyes down to the tattoo on Al’s ankle as it poked out from his pant leg, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it all just yet. After the morning run, they had arrived back at the temple courtyard, where Alphonse had learned that there were many more people here than he had first guessed. It also seemed that the monk had sent Al out with the youngest group of pupils this morning, and he wasn’t sure whether that was purposeful hazing or simply purposeful. There were clearly young men and women here much closer to Al’s own age, though he towered over the majority in height. Da and Ya Yun were presumably somewhere on the grounds, but they were not here for lessons, it seemed, or for early morning runs.

Once assembled, the monks had broken them all broke into groups: some of them sparring in the open yard, some of them watching the sparring and waiting their turn, some of them doing drills with heavy rice sacks hanging from tree limbs by long ropes, some of them doing sit ups on the dusty ground. Al had started by sparring a few rounds with one of the younger monks, who then saw fit to pair Al with a group of young men nearly his own age. The monks seemed happy with his combat skills, only stopping him a few times to demonstrate an alternate move, which he and his partner would repeat a few times before earning an approving nod. 

The approval stopped abruptly when their training shifted to the heart of Al’s long journey: rentanjutsu. 

Nung-ning continued to eye Al coldly, and all Al could do was sigh and wait for the monk to circle back their way. He’d been placed back with the youngest group, and they had spent the last thirty minutes sitting in pairs, facing their partner, quietly trying to do _something_ , the exact details of which Al hadn’t the faintest idea. It sharply reminded him of a similarly frustrating lesson in Briggs, and his instructor at that time had been able to speak perfect Amestrian. 

So Al sat, waiting, wondering what they were trying to do. They had drawn no circles, had no group discussions. The children seemed to already know the purpose of this session and sat down automatically in meditative poses. An older monk had sat with Alphonse at first, demonstrating some deep breathing techniques that Al had guessed were for meditation — but when he meditated, the monk kept interrupting him, huffily demonstrating the breathing and indicating that somehow this was supposed to involve Al’s sitting partner. Nung-ning said nothing the whole time. _Not that it would have helped much if she had._ His few lessons on the train were woefully inadequate for preparing him to interact on his own here.

*******

Alphonse, Da, and Ya Yun settled into the back of the supply carriage early that morning, the Chang royal guards up front gently coaxing the horses to pull. The carriage jerked, and then they were moving on from the Chang palace, which felt odd as it was the first time Al had really been able to even see it. It had been dark when they’d arrived last night, and they had made quick work of bathing and sleeping in anticipation of an early morning. It almost felt as though he’d never arrived at all.

Now that the sun was up and he could properly see the place, Al studied the tall walls that surrounded the grounds. They seemed less impressive the closer they got, the many deep cracks in the white plaster busy like a street map of Central, with some parts of the concrete plain exposed where the plaster had fallen off all together. The walls were topped with golden spires that reached into a giant spire - red gold, and green - arched high above the main entrance … but the gold was fake, and the sheen was lost to time. Al wasn’t a material sort of person, but the stark contrast of this to Ling’s palace was freshly apparent.

“ _My people have no power, no wealth. If I don’t find the Elixir of Life, the Changs will surely die out._ ” 

Al wished that he could have seen Mei before departing for Yulong, but she was a princess with important duties, and now it seemed a little silly that Al had almost expected she would be there waiting for him. He would have to make sure to ask about her before he left for Amestris, as it would be a shame to come all this way and not visit with her at all.

“We should arrive at the temple tomorrow by nightfall, Alphonse,” Ya Yun said quietly. “The masters will be expecting us.” 

As the carriage passed through the main gate of the grounds, Ya Yun sat on a small crate while Da reclined against the bags of rice flour. Al knew that they would be heading further north, straight into the mountains, loosely following the path of the great Yulong river that shared its name with the temple. The small village of Nit Lai lay nestled there between river and mountain, and according to Da, would be the closest piece of civilization while Al trained. 

“Alphonse!”

Shaken from his wandering thoughts, Al looked back and spotted a small number of guardsmen on horses quickly closing the distance between them.

“Alphonse!” and Al saw her in a crouch on the balls of her feet, one hand down for balance, perched on the rump of the leading horse while a royal guard rode in the saddle. 

The guards came even with the carriage, and Mei sprang lightly from the horse, landing neatly between the supplies. Al shifted to stand on his knees, and before he could do more Mei had launched herself into him, her small arms tightly wrapped around his waist as she too balanced on her knees.

“Oh Alphonse, I was so worried that I would be too late!” 

She rubbed her face against his chest, and Al struggled with where to place his hands, finally settling on the backs of her shoulders. Xiao Mei grumbled threateningly into Al’s chest from her master’s shoulder.

“It’s great to see you, Mei Chang.” 

She pulled herself away, met his gaze. “I had to travel south to Hua Hin suddenly - they have been displeased with the new train as it doesn’t yet travel that way. Anyway, I’m so very sorry. I was so sure I had missed you entirely!”

“Well, I’m very glad that you didn’t. You’ve grown quite a lot!” 

She blushed, covering her face with her hands and waving off the words. 

Their small procession had entered into the Chang capitol of Mak Lai, the carriage flanked by several guardsman on horseback. It was evident that Mak Lai was not the city of Xing’s emperor in size or grandeur, but it was definitely full of people, and the narrow roads were lined with places to go. While some of these people seemed to move with purpose, most seemed content to walk slowly and watch the others as they set up their stalls for business. Al could feel people watching, feel them search the carriage and count the number of guards. Al had seen this sort of hunger in mining towns, seen what it led people to do. Mei waved to the watching crowd; some of them bowed and some of them simply watched them pass.

Al saw the train station at the far end of a main crossroad, the walls ivory white with a starkly red gate, its many gold accents glittering in the early sunlight and so unlike the grey buildings that lined the rest of the street.

“The train has not been active for long, but Mak Lai is already growing,” Mei said. “People are traveling from the other provinces. It’s quiet here, a place to separate from their daily life.”

“We call that a getaway,” Al replied. He could hear Ya Yun repeat the word softly next to him, and he turned to address the group of them. “In Amestris, sometimes people from the bigger cities would travel to my hometown to spend the night at the inn, enjoy the country life.”

“It’s easy to enjoy this life when it’s not actually yours,” Mei said. “When you can go back to your city, where there is always food, never a bad season…”

Da hummed an agreement while Ya Yun casually took in her surroundings. Al knew the Chang province was largely agricultural, but it seemed even in this short time that the city was starting to grow into its new role. Al bit his lip, looked from Da to Ya Yun to Mei.

Mei’s face held no secrets just then, and Al could see how many worries still weighed on her. Ling gaining the throne was no magic cure, there was still a mountain of work to do. The Changs were still in danger of falling. Then she looked up at Al, and her expression melted. “We’re going to build a hotel like some of the ones I saw in your country! I signed the contract with the builders the other week.”

“Well, hopefully with these new changes, the Changs will have more food to share.”

Mei nodded and they stayed quiet, Al taking in the city as they passed by small restaurants, canopied market stalls, even what appeared to be an open-front bar, its stools still sat out along the countertop ready for customers. There was life here, and Al hoped that with care, Mei’s people would begin to prosper. 

Too soon, they were at the edges of the city, and Mei rose to her feet. 

“Alphonse, I must return to the palace. Please give Master Manop my kindest regards.”

She hugged him again, and this time he returned it. Then, swiftly, before he could think to say anything of merit, Mei hopped from the carriage back to one of the horses. The extra guards fell back to return to the palace. Up ahead, the lone dirt road stretched far into the distance with nothing but green on either side. Al’s remaining two escorts began to settle themselves as if to nap, though he guessed from past experience that these captains of Xing were keenly aware of their surroundings, even like this. Al was tired, and the sun was hot already, but he found he was too excited to lie down or nap. Instead, he leaned his forearms over the carriage ledge and rested his chin on them, taking in the intense green of the jungle that grew closer and closer to the road the further from Mak Lai they rode. The air was wet and Al could smell the rot of decaying plants, but it wasn’t so bad, almost sweet even.

A small creek kept winding along the side of the road, cutting in and out of sight behind the thick trees that grew in bunches. Not long after, they came upon several large bovine, their short coats as dark as the royal guard uniform. The beasts stood lazily in the stream, dunking their heads completely and then surfacing to chew the river grasses. Their horns were absolutely enormous, sloping in a gentle curve off the sides of their heads. Water dripped from their great horns, off the rope strung from horn to nose ring, and the animals were utterly unconcerned with the passing carriage on the road. A small group of children, presumably their human keepers, napped under a tree nearby.

“ _Riiak waa arai?_ ” Al asked, wondering what to call the creatures. 

When Al looked back, Da’s eyes were warm and full of nostalgia. “ _Khwaai._ Water buffalo. My family uses them in the fields. It used to be my job to care for them.” 

Al remembered the spotted cows from Risembool he and Ed would pass each day on the way to Granny’s, and felt he understood, at least a little.


	2. Book Two: Earth

Hands held near his chin, Alphonse circled his opponent slowly, watching for his next move. _Come on, Al, you know he’s just going to wait for you._ Al was used to sparring Ed, who was often impatient, always aggressive, and who usually grew more frustrated the more Al bested him. Al was used to fighting foes who were desperate to win without time or care for waiting, who fought with everything they had in them to fight this final fight — but Bank, this teenager of Yulong temple, he had all the time in the world, it seemed.

Bank smiled slyly at Al, circled back around the other way, his shoulders loose. He was toying with Al, baiting him to make the first move. Sadly, Al seemed to keep falling into this trap somehow. _Don’t do it, he’s just going to circle and feint until you make a move…_

Bank stuck his footing, then lifted his knee to throw a straight kick at Al’s gut. Al cut an angle to dodge and close the distance, throwing an upward palm strike at Bank’s face — and then Bank was behind him, arms wrapped around Al’s neck and shoulder in a headlock, trapping Al’s arm uncomfortably above his head as Bank applied pressure to Al’s throat. Bank gave a playful knee to Al’s kidney before dumping him to the ground.

“Too slow,” Bank said between laughs. “Always slow.”

Al knew that Bank was one of the best fighters currently training at Yulong, and so it had come to pass that he and Alphonse were paired together the most. He was built much like Al, tall and lean, with long limbs and quick reflexes. Bank, now sixteen, had lived at Yulong since he was eight years old. Combat training two times a day, six days a week … Al had only been here for three weeks and already he could feel his own skills sharpening from the increased practice. It was no wonder Bank was so quick, so fluid, moved around Al’s strikes so casually. 

Al stood up, resumed his fighting stance, and calculated a plan of attack.

 _Wait_ , he told himself, _just wait_. 

They circled slowly to Al’s left. Bank stuck his footing again and lifted his knee. Al lifted his own knee and tapped the ball of his foot to Bank’s thigh, blocking his leg and keeping distance between them. 

Al saw him dip his shoulder, saw him move to take Al’s back — and Al pivoted to redirect the motion, kept Bank from moving behind him —

Bank was on the ground now. Al had ducked low and kicked out Bank’s leg. Teacher would have really enjoyed sparring with Bank, Al decided. 

He reached over to help Bank stand, the other teen grasping Al’s forearm and hauling himself up to his feet. Then Al felt Bank adjust his grip for a throw, and Alphonse turned his hips to try and break the hold. The large brass bell by the kitchen sounded three times, signaling lunch. Bank and Alphonse promptly released each other and gave each other a small bow, palms pressed together in front of their faces. There were only two meals served here each day, and any extra helpings you could earn by finishing early sorely helped with the intensity of training. 

“That was better,” Bank said. “You’re getting quicker.”

“Thank you. I’ve got a long ways to go still.”

Bank nodded, smiling wide. “You’ll get there.” They bumped fists and made their way to the back building for lunch.

*******

Mei sat on the cold floor, carefully drawing a pentagram within a circle. Al knew the floor must be cold not only for the fact that it was winter here in Briggs, but because he could see the way her whole body shivered, the way her breath condensed into visible steam each time she spoke. He felt bad, but this was a rare and important opportunity to learn about rentanjutsu, and he couldn’t let the cold stop this, even when it had no effect on his current body and every effect on hers.

“The Dragon’s Pulse is the Earth’s life energy, and it flows from the tops of the mountains down into the Earth, feeding everything.”

“And you’re saying that rentanjutsu is powered by this energy?”

“Well, Amestrian alchemy texts have theorized that alchemical energy stems from the shifting of the Earth’s tectonic plates, perhaps a form of kinetic energy — but Alphonse, the more I think about it, the more I’m coming to believe that the true source of alchemical energy is from the movement of a multitude of souls.” Her expression was dark and fiery then. “In turn, the Universe.”

He raised a leather gauntlet to the chin of his helmet as he thought it over. “The Universe is All, and All is One. This is sort of similar to Democritus’ atomic theory of the Universe.”

“Maybe. It’s hard to know the full intent of the Xerxean alchemists. Lucretius said that he observes that any material is subject to irreversible decay.”

“Yes,” Al said, “the conclusion is that many properties of materials must derive from something inside, that will itself never decay, something that stores for eternity the same inherent, indivisible properties. It’s possible that this is where alchemy draws its energy from.”

“All I know is that to read the Dragon’s Pulse, you have to clear your mind.” Mei closed her eyes and stayed seated in her meditative pose. Then she opened her eyes with a disapproving scowl. What had he done wrong already? They hadn’t even started yet.

“Focus on the Dragon’s energy, Alphonse!”

“I need more practical instruction than this!”

“Just focus!”

*******

“Why are you stupid?” Nung-ning asked, head tilted slightly to one side as she chewed another mouthful of lunch.

“Why are you mean?” Al asked, half-jokingly.

She shook her head. “Not mean.”

After his unfortunate first day at Yulong, in which he’d understood essentially nothing — in every sense of the word — Alphonse had doubled down on his language lessons with Da. Rentanjutsu had enough variables to contend with: Al had to be sure the language barrier was not one of them. In the following weeks, he’d made steady progress learning the Chang dialect, though he still could not understand when Da and Ya Yun spoke amongst themselves. Xing’s fifty clans spread over an immense area meant the language had grown highly divergent over time, in some regions even more than others. Da had very helpfully acknowledged the differences stating, “same same, but different.”

“I’m learning, Nung-ning.”

“No, not learning. Just stupid.” She could hardly contain the fit of giggles that threatened to take over, her delicate shoulders shaking with each effort to stifle the laughter as she rocked back and forth and squished her sticky rice in her hands.

“Help me learn, then!”

Really, despite getting better at understanding the monks’ words, at least literally, Alphonse was still struggling to wrap his head around performing even the basest functions of the art. Connecting to the Dragon’s Pulse in order to power transmutations was an interesting hypothesis. Al had theorized before that alchemy as Amestris knew it relied on the energy of tectonic shifts, which he supposed could be seen as the Earth’s energy as rentanjutsu called it, but it had always seemed only natural for Alphonse to draw his formula, pull the energy, and push it toward the transmutation. Here, it seemed he was meant to simply feel the energy, even without a circle, and learn to read the flow. It was not going well so far.

“Too stupid!” she joked.

“I miss when you didn’t talk,” Al laughed.

*******

The waterfall was small, but refreshing, and Al was glad to have this task each afternoon. Thigh deep in the small receiving pool, Al ducked his head once more beneath the water as it tumbled down over the rocks above him. He and Bank took it in turns to soak themselves in the cool mountain water before settling on some of the rocks, large and worn smooth by the water. 

On the shore, briefly abandoned, stood a small cart that Yulong’s only buffalo had pulled down from the mountain top not long before. Now the beast lounged by the stream, enjoying the grass and reeds while they enjoyed the waterfall.

“Bank, you’ve been at the temple a long time already, right?”

“Eight years.”

“What are you hoping to do once you’re done? Join the palace guards?”

Bank shrugged, not meeting Al’s face. “I’m just here to help my family.”

Bank splashed back toward the shore, leading the buffalo back onto dry ground. Al took the cue and moved out from under the small waterfall, joining Bank at the ox cart they’d brought with them. Al lifted the yoke while Bank walked Pakorn back into position, and the pair of them then secured the patient beast to the cart with the large leather harness that was bolted in.

Once Pakorn was secure, Bank began removing the lids from the large clay pots that lined the cart. Alphonse approached the water’s edge, clapped, then placed his palms on the wet rocks. Blue light crackled and the stone worked itself into an aqueduct, funneling the water from the fall and into the first jar. When that was full, Al activated the circle again, reformed the rocks, aiming the water into the next pot. The stream that fed this waterfall was modest, and it took several minutes to fill each jar. There were similar jars back at the temple in strategic places beneath the roofs that Al knew would be left open on a rainy night. 

Bank watched curiously as Al transmuted the stone back into its original shape, or at least as close as he could manage given the irregularities of eroding stone.

“If you can do that,” Bank asked, “why can’t you feel the Dragon’s Pulse?”

It was a fair question, and one that Alphonse had already asked himself countless times. 

“I wish I knew, Bank.”

“Sometimes you have to let go of everything. Let go of your body. When you are empty, then you can feel the life flow in the earth.”

Al laughed at the dark irony in letting go of his body to get closer to the great source. _You have to pay the toll, Alchemist. _When he looked back at Bank, the other boy had the faintest hint of a frown. Al smiled at him, “I’ll keep that in mind, Bank. Thank you.”__

____

*******

“According to the theory of the five elements, each element of Nature has both Yin and Yang components.” Master Somchai spoke to the group as he drew a circle in the ground with the sharp edge of a dagger. “The five elements,” the monk started tracing a line from one side of the circle toward its center, “Fire, Earth, Metal, Water and Wood are in constant movement; they follow, oppose and give birth to one another.” He had drawn a five-pointed star within the circle.

“Contrary and opposite forces are equally connected with complementary forces, each a part of the combined creative and destructive cycles of the five elements.”

Al listened intently and longed for a notebook. He and his junior classmates were once again seated on the ground, though today they weren’t working in pairs, but were instead being treated to a class discussion.

“Wood is the element of birth, creativity, longevity and wisdom,” the monk said. “Wood feeds Fire, and Wood parts Earth.” He walked among his students, arms folded behind his back. “Fire is the element of courage, passion, adventure, and enthusiasm. Fire creates Earth, and Fire melts Metal.”

Like his brief lessons with Mei years before, this all seemed like a terribly over-simplified view of things to Al. Of course, so did many alchemical texts from Xerxes, an ancient culture with distinct overlaps in religion and science. If he could crack this code, maybe he’d make some real progress with his other research back in Amestris. 

“…of solidity, stability, and nourishing support essential to fertility. The Earth is a dense and deep receptacle, which also symbolizes seriousness and introspection. Created by the element Fire, the Earth bears Metal, and the Earth dams Water.”

Master Somchai continued moving about his students as he spoke, carefully walking around the circles each child had drawn in the earth before them with their own daggers that had been handed out when they’d reached the temple after their afternoon run. A circle Al had not yet drawn, and that Master Somchai had now noticed as their eyes met. _Oh._ Al kept forgetting that they wanted to see his work here.

“Metal, the material of the protective shield and the sharp sword, is the representative element of solidity, brilliance, loyalty, but also rigidity. Metal collects Water, and Metal chops Wood.”

Al took one kunai and carefully drew a purification circle in the ground, trying to listen to his teacher while meticulously forming the formula that might link him to the Dragon’s Pulse.

“…yet, like water that sleeps, passive, never in direct confrontation and with remarkable adaptability, Water…”

*******

“Your admirer is quite cute,” Ya Yun said, lifting her hand from the ground and inclining her head to indicate someone behind her. 

He flicked his eyes to look over Ya Yun’s shoulder, and of course, Nung-ning was there watching them eat lunch. “She’s taken to following me the last few days,” Al said. “Should I be worried that she’s a spy?” He was half-kidding, half-serious. He remembered Ling and Mei’s stories from before their journey West.

“That is our job to worry,” Da answered casually as he pulled some fish from its bones. “I’ve already checked her house. She’s an orphan after her grandmother’s death. Her younger sister died of disease before the monks took her in at the temple.” 

Da said it so off-handedly that for a moment, Alphonse was angry. This girl, not even ten years old, and she’d lost everything she’d had. Her entire family was gone, and this man gave Al the news like he was commenting on the weather. _I know a thing or two about being an orphan_. Then he took a deep breath and held it; life was different here in Xing, different here in the far reaches of the northern province. The more Al grew to know the people around him, the more common these sorts or tragic stories seemed to be. He couldn’t rightly be angry with Da when Al was only a spectator, not really part of this culture. Da had grown up with these stories.

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Al finally said. Maybe he could talk to Nung-ning about it another time. Al had at least had his older brother, even Granny Pinako and Winry. He wondered if his little friend had anyone else at the temple to lean on. He’d find out later. “So is that what you guys do during the day? Investigate the other students?”

“Yes,” Ya Yun said, “it is our job to keep you safe until you return to Zhongdu.”

“Thank you,” Al said, and he let his mind wander for a moment as he worked on his fish and rice. He knew better by now than to ask where they were when it seemed they weren’t around. Xingese guards all had unnatural talent in the art of stealth. Nung-ning, though. There were so many things that Al wanted to do here, things that needed to be done. He knew Mei was hard at work for the Chang province, and he knew Ling was willing to help, but did Ling know just how bad things were here? Al wanted to speak with Mei in more depth, and then with Ling, if Al was able. He’d stolen much of the emperor’s time already. He had to get his head around this _lungmei_ stuff sooner rather than later if he wanted to have time left for Chang ambassador duties. And about that…

“Hey, so you both can read the Dragon’s Pulse, right? All the royal guards can?” The two guards nodded, and Al continued. “So can you perform rentanjutsu as well?”

Ya Yun shook her head, “Not everyone is able to perform the art. In Amestris, are there people who cannot perform your alchemy? People who cannot fight as a soldier for their country?” Al nodded. “In Xing it is the same. There are people who can connect with the five elements, use the earth’s energy at will, but there are many more who cannot.”

“I learned how to read the Dragon’s Pulse when I learned Xingese martial arts,” Da said, “but I never was taught anything more. I don’t think it would have worked for me anyway, though.”

This did not help Al feel any better about things, but he smiled and thanked them nonetheless, feeling more determined than ever.

*******

“My mom is a good cook,” Bank shouted over his shoulder as Al held onto Bank’s shoulders and balanced himself on the bicycle axle he’d altered into standing pegs. “She has her own restaurant.”

Bank peddled swiftly through the small village of Nit Lai, full of dirt roads and single-story buildings with tin roofs scattered along the edges as the jungle loomed on all sides. They turned a corner and barreled through a few small flock of chickens that were picking in the street. Bank waved to several villagers as they lounged in bits of shade from tree and building alike. It was Sunday, the one day they did not train at Yulong, and it seemed that for many Nit Lai residents, Sunday afternoons were also a time of rest. 

“Here,” Bank called, and he pulled over the bicycle, placing his foot down to balance while Al stepped off the back. 

The restaurant was small, and not what Al would recognize as one without being told. It was a small shack much like every other building they passed, but the front portion was simply an open area with a roof supported by a few metal poles. Connected to this was what Al figured must be the kitchen. Bank led the way inside, and Al had been right — but he had also been wrong. 

There was a kitchen, indeed. A small woman with dark skin stood there pouring water from one large pot to another full of rice. A boy who could only be Bank’s younger brother sat skinning fish over a bowl on the floor. Behind him a small, elderly woman sat on a stool and peeled fronds along with a small girl who was maybe six or seven. Behind them all, in the back corner of the room, was a large sleeping mat and a mosquito net hung from the ceiling by a nail. This was their house, it seemed, and the restaurant was really more like their porch, an open-air sitting area in the front of the family home with an assortment of battered chairs and tables they likely had collected over the years. 

“Bank!” The woman called as she finished her pouring. She spoke very quickly to Bank, and Al couldn’t catch the majority of what she’d said, and then Bank was pointing at Al and they continued their conversation. Al waved and smiled, and the woman smiled and continued talking too fast. Then Bank nodded for Al to follow him, and Alphonse did.

“We have to fix the roof,” Bank said. 

“Oh?” 

“Yes, she says it’s been leaking at night.”

“Did she say from where?”

“Everywhere.”

Bank led Al out back, where the trees pressed toward the open space of the house and the road. Bank grabbed a tree with both hands and started climbing, shifting his hands above his head, then standing and sliding his hands further up the narrow trunk with an ease that alluded to the number of times he had climbed this tree before. Once Bank had climbed high enough, he hopped the short gap from the tree to the metal roof, graceful as a cat. Bank peered back down toward the ground, waiting. Al climbed.

“I know you can’t fix it from the ground like I can,” Bank said, “but you’re smarter. You can probably fix it better than I do.”

Al had seen Bank transmute remotely at the temple a few times, when his own beginner lessons ended early, and Al was sure Bank’s modesty was uncalled for. Still, Al was always up for problem-solving. “I’m sure you fix things just fine.”

Bank simply shrugged, nonchalant, and knelt down to trace the seams between the roof panels with his finger. Al took in the roof as a whole: the panels were side-by-side, welded together instead of layered in overlaps. He could see the alchemical seams someone had made previously. They were crumbling now, and probably not the proper mix of metals. He pushed on the panel and let it bounce back. _Aluminum, most likely_. He needed more aluminum, then, some copper and zinc. Some of the more trace elements like chromium and nickel he could draw from some soil, he wouldn’t need much of them, but they needed to seal every seam, and he definitely needed more metal to transmute, otherwise he’d have to make them too thin or only between certain panels. _That’s probably why Bank’s seals are failing, actually_. It was also probably why whoever built the roof used too few panels in the first place: there never seemed to be enough of anything up here.

“Okay, I’m going to need some more aluminum. Do you have anything here we could use?”

Bank took a moment to think, then nodded back to the tree they’d climbed. Once they were back on the ground, Bank led Al to the back of the house where a group of chickens wandered a tiny, fenced-in garden. There was a large wooden barrel, and Bank lifted the lid to reveal some grain feed for the birds with a single metal scoop on top of the feed.

 _Hm._ “That would work, but we need more.”

Bank sighed and looked away from Al for a moment. “That’s all we have. Unless we use my bike.”

Bank’s mother leaned out the back door of their house and called for Bank again. Bank gave Al a brief, worried look. 

“I’ll go look around,” Al said. “Maybe there’s some good clay I can pull from.” Bank nodded, then left to see what his mother needed. 

Al knew, of course, that he would need more than jungle dirt to make a proper fix, but it seemed saying so would be in poor taste. Bank probably already knew the situation anyway. There was also no way he would willingly use Bank’s bicycle without first ruling out all other options. Between their training, lessons, and chores, there wasn’t much time or energy left for things like visits to the village. The bicycle played a huge part in Bank’s ability to see his family. Al set off at a brisk walk toward the more populated area of the village, hoping that he’d find something useful there. They hadn’t passed by much on their way in, though.

After about twenty minutes of walking, Al came upon two women in the road. They seemed to be making their way somewhere with large sacks of fruit strapped to their backs.

“Good afternoon!” Al called.

“Good afternoon.”

“I was looking for someplace to buy some metal. Do you know where I might find any?”

The two women looked at each other for a moment, and Al began to question whether he’d used the correct words.

One woman turned to point back in the direction she and her friend had walked from. “Go there to buy,” she said.

“Thank you!” Al offered them women a small bow and continued down the small road, keeping an eye out for something. 

A few minutes later, he reached a group of people drinking something that smelled very strongly of alcohol in the shade of a small roofed porch much like the one at Bank’s house. 

“Good afternoon!” Al said in the Chang dialect.

Some of them returned the greeting, some just smiled and watched Al with much interest. 

“I need to find metal to repair a roof. Where might I go for that?”

_”Mai khao jai, farang. Arai na?”_

_Oh no._ Al knew he had come a long way in communicating with everyone at Yulong, but he was at a loss right now. He took a closer look at the villagers. There were mostly men here, all of them lounging, most of them drinking, some of them playing a dice game. Toward the back of the three walled-shack, there was a small wooden counter and a few shelves with bottles of what Al guessed to be liquor. There wasn’t much of anything here to buy aside from a hangover or a rest from farming.

He turned back to the man who’d answered him and said in his best Chang accent., “I need to buy a bicycle.”

The man sat forward and leaned his forearms on his knees, staring at Al with an intense look of concentration. “Bicycle?”

“Yes!”

“You want?”

“Yes, please,” Al said. 

The man nodded to one of his compatriots, who stood and slowly made his way around behind the building. A few minutes later, he placed a rusted bicycle frame on the ground without a word. He and the other bar goers immediately started laughing, their voices dirty and their plan transparent.

“Fifty _liang_ ,” the man said wearing a wide fox-grin.

Al knew that things like bicycles could be hard to come by so far outside the Chang capitol, but man, this was more than two gold for a bike that didn’t even have tires. Not that he was buying it to ride, but this guy didn’t know that. Still, Al had the feeling he wouldn’t find much else here today, and he did have the money to spare. 

He reached into the satchel strapped around his waist and carefully retrieved the coins for his purchase. The small crowd all eyed his purse intently and watched him count out the coin to the man who’d named the price. The man pocketed the money and raised his glass to Al. Al clapped his palms together and placed his thumbs at his chin with his fingertips at his nose.

“Thank you.”

Then Al grabbed his rusted bike frame and began the walk back to Bank’s family home. He thought back to the many times he and Ed had, as children, dragged many a strange item home to fuel their alchemy, and how their mother had always smiled and welcomed the parade of broken farm tools and shredded automail assemblies. It was funny how some things never seemed to change. When he reached the restaurant, Bank and his family were setting out some food for dinner by the table nearest their kitchen door. Bank looked at the bike and gave Al a dark look before popping up to meet him in the road.

“I fixed a pole for someone in town and they let me take this as payment.”

Al knew Bank would not be pleased that Al had spent his own money, much like Ed would have hated it. He’d see it as some sort of charity, and Bank and his family worked hard to earn for themselves. They didn’t need charity; except Alphonse had been new at the temple and Bank had accepted him as a friend right away. Al had more than enough money to loan some to a friend, and it wasn’t any of Bank’s business what Al did with his own money. If Al wanted to pay for something, he would. Ed’s voice echoed in Al’s brain: _Except you know that’s bullshit, right?_ In his mind, Al flashed his brother a rude hand gesture and crossed the restaurant back toward the tree he had climbed earlier.

“Bank, could you use that feed scoop to bring me a scoop of dirt?”

“Sure,” Bank said, “I’ll meet you on the roof.”

Al looked from the tree to the roof a few times, then called to Bank’s mother in Xingese. “So sorry!” Then, he tossed the bike onto the roof with a loud clang as metal hit metal. “Sorry!”

The woman smiled and nodded, and Al began climbing the tree. A moment later, Bank stepped onto the roof with the lip of the metal scoop gripped between his teeth. He handed the scoop to Alphonse, who dumped the dirt onto the center of a roof panel, then took one more good look at everything. A formula set firmly in his mind, Al clapped his hands together, then knelt down to place his palms to the roof, blue alchemical sparks crackling all around him. The bike seemed to melt, and Al pulled the chemicals from his ingredients and pushed them to form thick seals between the panels. When he was done, there was a small pile of fine sand left on the roof, which was now one solid piece of tin-coated aluminum with a few, minimal channels for drainage. 

“This should hold for a while. Maybe later we can get more panels and redo the whole thing so it drains better.”

Bank’s eyes were glistening as he eyed the repair job. “Thank you.”

*******

The evening sun had begun its descent behind the horizon, and in this last hour of sunlight, the residents of Yulong finished up their daily chores. Al was sweeping the temple steps of its daily accruement of dust, leaves, and insects with a wide straw-grass broom. The concrete steps were the final climb up the mountain to the prayer hall, and they were very well traveled, much to Al’s surprise. While Sundays were by far the most popular with the villagers, there was always a steady stream of farmers and impossibly ancient elders climbing the mountain to make their merit each day.

At the base of the steps stood a pair of pillars on either side, each topped with a miniature version of the temple building, golden stupas and tiny dragon guardians outside the open door exactly like their full-sized counterparts. Each miniature temple, Al noticed, was always stocked with offerings of fruit and incense anchored in small glasses of water.

“What are you looking at?” Nung-ning asked, next to Al.

He’d stopped sweeping, it seemed, and hadn’t even noticed the girl approach. He wondered vaguely if it was the unyielding heat of Xing, the intense physical training, or the incredible strain his failure to perform rentanjutsu was placing on his brain and his ego. It was probably a combination of the three if he were being honest with himself. 

“Nung-ning, what are the little temples?”

She tutted, as always smugly enjoying her superior knowledge of all things Chang. “The guardian houses.” His mind supplied the pointed _obviously_ she had left unsaid.

“What guardians live there?”

“There are lots of spirits on the mountain.”

“And they live in these houses?”

“The good ones,” she said. “Because we feed them.”

“What about the bad ones?”

“If the good spirits are happy, they keep the bad ones away.” _Equivalent exchange_. “You can feel them, you know. When you feel the mountain.”

“I’m still trying to figure out that part,” Al said, shaking his head. Al was always happy to learn, though, and there was a never ending list of things to be learned at Yulong. 

“Don’t try so hard. Just feel.” She closed her eyes and, maybe he was really losing it, but he thought he could feel Nung-ning reaching him. Reaching him _inside_. She opened her eyes and the sensation stopped immediately, and he wasn’t sure if it was all his imagination or if something had just happened. “It’s easy!”

*******

Alphonse finished tying the old sash around Bank’s waist, frayed and dull after untold years of use. “Is that good?”

“Yeah.” Bank stepped out and threw a high kick into the air, pivoting easily on the ball of his foot. “It’s not too tight.”

“Good!” Al playfully jabbed at Bank, who slipped his shoulder and countered with a lazy uppercut. Bank’s hands were wrapped in thin, white cord in the shape of a small glove with the fingers exposed. Al was glad Bank didn’t throw a serious punch.

They moved together, ignoring the crowd around them just as the crowd ignored them. Bank’s bare chest glistened with the liniment oil Al had just massaged into him before, the deep brown of his skin in stark contrast to the bright white of the loose linen pants he wore. They were tied closed just below the knee, his calves and feet bare, the old red sash tied around his waist. One of the other Yulong students was sparring with Master Somchai nearby with an old blue sash around his waist. This was far less intense than their usual sessions; really it was only to make sure Bank and the other boy were loose and ready for their matches.

They were down in the village of Nit Lai on a Friday evening, on the outskirts, where a fairly large clearing had been kept free of plant growth. A sizable crowd had gathered, pressed as close to the large circle carved into the dirt as the event runners would allow. Bank said there would be fights tonight, and that the winners would get paid. Al knew that Amestris had fighting sports such as boxing, but with trying to get their bodies back all those years and the state of the military, he and Ed had never really explored any of it. Maybe once he was back in Central, he and Ed would have to look into things more. Captain Havoc seemed like the kind of guy that might know a place to go. 

After a few minutes of easy sparring, Master Somchai waved to the boys. “Okay, no more for now. The gamblers have seen enough.”

Bank nodded and stretched his arm over his head. “Al, you should go get a good spot to watch.” He nodded beyond the crowd. “I think your friends found a place already.”

Al followed Bank’s eyes, and sure enough, Da and Ya Yun were perched on the roof of a single story restaurant across the way. 

“Okay. Good luck, Bank!”

They bumped fists. Bank smiled and tapped Al’s stomach with a light push kick, which Al swept off with his forearm before glancing at Master Somchai to see if they were in trouble. Bank had done the same: no more sparring right now. Al gave the monk a small bow and a sheepish grin, then waved to Bank as he jogged off across the small street. It only took a few easy moves to swing himself up onto the roof with the royal guards who forever shadowed him in Xing.

“Ya Yun! Da! I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” The two guards sat on bedrolls laid out on the metal roof, lacquer masks in place with their hoods up. They looked comfortable, or as comfortable as you could on a metal roof after a long day in Xing. 

“We’re always close by, Alphonse,” Ya Yun said evenly. “Though not always in the open.”

“We can watch from here. The gamblers always watch from up front anyway.” 

Indeed, it was a pretty good view of things from here, slightly above the crowd and roughly thirty meters back. “Those people are all gamblers?”

“Pretty much,” Da said. “They can make a lot of money betting. Much more than farming.”

“Interesting. Can anyone place a bet?”

Da shrugged. “Sure, if you have money.”

Al nodded and took a seat on a portion of Da’s bedroll. The heat of the roof seeped through, making Al’s rear uncomfortably warm. He crossed his legs and observed his surroundings.

“This crowd looks pretty big. For Nit Lai anyway. Every time I’ve been in town, there hasn’t seemed to be nearly this many people.”

“Some of the farmers aren’t in town much,” Da said. “Plus the gamblers who travel from village to village for the fights. They don’t work, they just gamble and get drunk.”

“I guess they make enough money gambling to pay for what they need?”

“I’ve heard of Chang gamblers,” Ya Yun said softly. “It’s not a respectable title, even if it is more profitable.”

Da shrugged again. 

“Amestris has gamblers as well. I’ve never tried it, but I’ve heard that it can be fun if you don’t let it become your whole life.”

The crowd grew loud as two fighters and their trainers approached the circle. Al leaned forward and waited.

*******

Al had always been impressed by Mei and the other Xingese clan members who had fought with them in Amestris. Their timing had always been so precise, so keen, almost uncanny. He’d come to acclimate to this style of fighting more over the last month at the temple, but this was, well, it was pretty awesome. 

The whole set up had seemed obvious enough: a circle drawn in the earth, two fighters from opposing sides entering to do battle, one in red and one in blue. What had caught Al by surprise, and what had made this event truly something, were the thick blindfolds each fighter wore — and how little those dark blinds seemed to affect the match. The fighters moved assuredly, struck with the same precision that a sighted combatant would. They were using their _qi_ to sense each other, the world around them. In fighting terms, it was the ultimate use of the Dragon’s Pulse, and something Al desperately needed to learn. Ed would _never_ stand a chance against him.

“Ya Yun, Da, could you guys do this?”

“Yes, that’s how I became a Chang royal guard, actually.”

“Oh?”

“As I got better, I fought well enough to take a fight in Mak Lai, and the guards approached afterwards to offer me a position.”

“Ya Yun?”

“We often trained blindfolded, but betting matches were not as popular as they are here.”

“I see. I think it’s ingenious how Xingese martial arts have incorporated _lungmei_. There are just … so many applications.”

The blue fighter ducked a punch and slid in the dirt, coming up on the side of the strike to throw a round kick at the red fighter’s stomach. The red fighter raised their rear leg to block with their shin, though it was only so effective. They were off-balance for a split-second, and blue followed up with a push kick straight to red’s raised knee. Red stumbled back a few steps, then side-stepped the flying, downward elbow that blue had thrown. Their counters were fluid, screaming of anticipation despite both fighters being blind. 

“How often do these matches happen?’”

“It depends, usually every week.”

“Really?” Al hadn’t noticed anyone at the temple prepare for a blind match before, but then his first week had been sort of a blur, and he’d been strictly with the newest disciples as well. He wondered how often Bank fought.

“When I was growing up I would fight every few weeks. Sometimes more, sometimes less.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“It was fun to win.” He looked at Al, his dark eyes glinting through the eyeholes of his mask. “I usually won.”

*******

When Bank stepped up to the circle next, Al felt his pulse quicken. He knew Bank’s fighting pretty well at this point, and he knew how so very _good_ Bank was. Master Somchai whispered some instructions in Bank’s ears before Bank turned away from him, allowing the monk to tie the blindfold in place. 

“If I were to place a bet, I would bet on your friend,” Da said. 

“Yeah, I think I would too.”

The fight officiate called the boys to the center of the ring. They each stepped forward easily, stopping right where the man had indicated. He spoke briefly, then each boy bowed and stepped back to opposite sides of the circle. 

The man held his arm high over his head, then cut it down toward the earth. The match had started.

Bank stepped forward, hands held high with his chin tucked. The other boy, his sash a deep shade of blue, charged straight past the center of the circle toward Bank. Blue threw a punch; Bank side-stepped and landed a soft kick to Blue’s back-side. The crowd laughed.

“That scores well,” Da said. “It shows both dominance in the fight and restraint. He could have attacked many points to do damage.”

“So it’s not only about hurting the other fighter?”

“No, it’s about technique and control as well.” 

Bank had circled around and was at the center of the ring now, the blue fighter stalking him from the outside. Al knew Bank was patient, and that if Blue—

 _Yup_. Blue had stepped in to throw the first strike, and as Bank had always done against Al, he waited for that opening to throw a neat counterstrike. This time it was a straight kick to the stomach followed by a low kick to the leg, the loud crack of it heard over the cheers of the crowd.

The blue fighter circled Bank again, trying to find an opening, but Bank wasn’t offering any. After a few feints from Blue, Bank feinted a jab of his own. Blue stepped in to throw a cross, thinking he had him, and Bank stepped and threw a hard round kick straight to his liver. The blue fighter crumpled to one knee clutching his side. Bank paused in his stance. Liver strikes _hurt_ , Al knew, an intense all-encompassing pain that shot from your gut to the top of your skull, then back down to your toes. Blue grit his teeth and sucked in deep breaths as he stayed down; Bank backed up toward the edge of the circle as the fight officiate approached the downed blue fighter, counting down with exaggerated hand gestures from five-four-three-two-one.

The fight was over not long after it had begun. 

Bank pushed back his blindfold and approached Blue. He knelt beside him on the ground in a low bow. Blue bowed back, though not as deeply, and his hands went straight back to his side afterward. The officiate grabbed Bank’s wrist and pulled him to standing, raised his arm in the air to declare him the winner. 

Al and Da whooped from their place on the roof.


End file.
